


Glass Half Empty, Glass Half Full

by karrenia_rune



Category: Star Trek: Deep Space Nine
Genre: challenge community: dark fest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-03-21
Updated: 2011-03-21
Packaged: 2017-10-17 04:49:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,636
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/173073
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/karrenia_rune/pseuds/karrenia_rune
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Despondent over Jadzia's death and the rising number of casualties of the Dominion War, Julian plays his Secret Agent holoprogram with the safeties off. Garak finds out. Furious that the doctor is gambling with his life, he decides to teach Julian a lesson he will never forget.</p><p>"not with a club the heart is broken/a whip so small you could not see it'</p>
            </blockquote>





	Glass Half Empty, Glass Half Full

Title: Glass Half Empty, Glass Half Full  
Fandom: ST: Deep Space Nine  
Characters: Julian Bashir and Elim Garak  
Rating: R  
Warnings: mature themes  
Prompt: Star Trek: Deep Space Nine, Julian Bashir/Elim Garak.  
Disclaimer; Star Trek: Deep Space Nine and the characters who appear here or are mentioned belong to Paramount, UPN, and their respective producers; they are not mine.

 

“Glass Half Empty, Glass Half Full” by karrenia

Sometimes even he gets fed up with analysis and with nitpicking over every little detail. Yes, Julian Bashir is fully aware that those who know him best might quibble with the previous statement but then he does not really mind, because it's what they do. It's said that one who is prone to soaring requires people in their life to help keep them grounded. And that this is a good thing.

Whether or not it's the stress of the past several months catching up to him or the helpless frustration he saw in those soulful eyes of Patrick, the disdain and fury in the eyes of Jack, and the deeper yet harder to read look in Lauren's, that has pushed the proverbial needled into the camel's back; but Julian does not require grounding right now. It's not their fault, not really. If anything he was the one trying to help them.  
Captain Sisko had even suggested in order to keep them out of mischief and to give them something productive to help the Federation's war effort with the Dominion, that they go crush numbers. It had been a good idea at the time; and he certainly could not fault the Captain Sisko's reasoning.

Perhaps it was his own fault; perhaps he had expected better results from the number crunching; to put it in the most bald-faced terms: the Federation was losing the war.

He had gone to Sisko with the raw data, from a sheer numbers and resource allocation and as doctor he figured that the best thing to do was open a channel of diplomacy; from a military standpoint, there was no other choice then to fit a war of attrition. It had not been easy for either man.

All that to the side, escaping into his favorite holo-suite program and was not really running away from the problems that confronted him; it was merely an alternative avenue to other choices, such as beating his head against the bulkheads, or slamming his fist into a wall.  
At least in the holo-suite, if he felt like hitting something at least it would only be comprised of light and molecules.  
**  
Being chased at the maximum speed of the period-specific diesel-powered car would allow Julian chanced a glance out the rear-view mirror and realized that the man played the role of hit-man in the program. There were several options open to him: One, he could take evasive maneuvers and circle around, or two, he could allow the other vehicle to catch him up and risk a confrontation. He had had been running on adrenaline and very little sleep in the past few days; he chose option two.

Meanwhile, Garak arriving in the Replimat at precisely fifteen minutes after noon noticed almost immediately that Dr. Bashir had failed to meet him for their usual lunch. While in itself not alarming, on the way he had stopped by the Infirmary. Tapping his combadge,

"Computer, Locate Dr. Bashir."

The carefully modulated tones of the station’s computer replied: Dr. Bashir is in holo-suite 3."  
Garak got up from their usual table and nodded to Quark who had ambled over to require as to his needs and more than likely to cadge information out of him. As most everyone should have been aware cadging information out of Elim Garak would be like prying an oyster out of its shell with a butter knife, before it's time.

Ignoring the obsequious Ferengi, Garak departed the Replimat and then proceeded across the now crowded Replimat that was filling with the lunch crowd and to the holo-suites.  
Garak had been a participant in the good doctor's holo-suite fantasy often to be familiar with the in-roads of the program. Thus, instead of the facsimile who so closely resembled Chief Miles O'Brien, he had juggled the programming just enough to insert himself into the other's place.

"Doctor, I believe I have at some disadvantage," remarked Garak dryly as he held the smooth barreled old-fashioned gun to other man's temple and pulled the trigger

Much to Garak's surprise the recoil from the weapon caused two things to happen almost simultaneously: first he lost his grip on the gun as the metal heated up and the bullet speed from its chamber and into Bashir's cheek. The skin was pierced and he cried out in genuine pain and surprise.

He slumped back into the padded leather seat of the car in a tight coil, his long legs almost level with his chin. The blood that flowed from the wound did not look at all fake; it looked decidedly real, and that should not have been the case were the safe-guards that operated within the holo-suite programming running as they should.

Recovering quickly Garak rose to his feet. "Would you mind very much explaining what the hell is going on here? Or do you wish to me guess?"

Bashir glared daggers at Garak and at first refused to answer. At this precise moment, the wound on his cheek all but forgotten he realized that he's furious. It's a mounting fury that was rising on a decided upswing. He's mad at the circumstances, furious at the Dominion for instigating the war in the first place. And he's furious with himself for feeling control slipping away from his grasp.

He was also furious with Garak for this unwarranted intrusion; at the moment, it is all he can focus on.

"What the hell do you want?" snarled Bashir

"For starters, I would like an answer to my question," Garak replied evenly.

"Which question?"

"Why are the safeguards turned off?"

"I felt like it."

Garak tossed his head and growled. "That is hardly an adequate response. If anyone living aboard this giant monument to Cardassian arrogance currently run by the ever-so sanctimonious Federation should know better, it would you.

"Garak, please. Leave."

"I find myself unable to comply with that request, my friend. For you see if anyone with eyes to see and ears to her it is the station's Chief Medical Officer who is need of help.

"Go away."

"No.

"Very well. My instincts proved me correct in the assumption that you needed help. Don't be so stupid or so stubborn as to turn away that help."

Garak offered a tightly controlled wry grin as he took several steps closer and wrenched open the car door and dragged Bashir out of the vehicle. "For starters, the first order of business is to get you out of this holo-suite. No, don't bother to show me the way. I know where your living quarters are."  
**  
Regarding Bashir's slumped, disheveled form lying prone on the couch Garak sniffed. "Physician, Heal Thyself. And if anyone should be angry at your irresponsible behavior, it is I. You had no right to gamble with your life!

"You can't help someone who doesn't want to be helped," muttered Bashir from his seated position on the sofa.

"All very well. How's the wound coming along?" Garak muttered from where he stood by the window that looked out on the night-time vista of an Earth-city called London.

"Fine. It was a glancing blow and it's already healing."  
Garak stepped forward and without any warning balled his hands into a fist and landed a blow on the purpling bruise where the wound had been.

Julian's head snapped back and he glared in mingled surprise and hurt. "Why?"

"Because, you brilliant, stupid man, you had that coming."

"You're contradicting yourself, how I can be both brilliant and stupid at the same time?"  
"Well, at least I say your capacity to reason things through has not completely deserted you. I had my doubts.”

"It's just a holo-suite," replied Julian defensively. Wondering even as he did so if he defending his actions out of a sheer act of defending them or if he was reacting because he refused to admit to himself that he had been in the wrong to gamble with his own life. Garak had been right, but really would it do any good to admit as much to the other man? And really, did it matter at this point?

"Not when you are involved," replied Garak. "Have you gotten that through your thick skull or must we repeat the lesson as many times as is required to make it stick?"

"What do you want me to say?" Julian shrugged. In the back of his mind he had been chewing over and over something that Garak had said in the heat of his tirade and for whatever reason it did stick and refused to become dislodged. "Pyscian, Heal Thyself."

"You do care," Julian mused aloud.

"Yes, well, don not become all teary-eyed and sentimental on me for then that would be cause for more red flags than your present behavior in the holo-suite."

Julian chuckled. "Garak, you always did have a way with words. If I didn't you any better I'd say that you actually cared about my welfare. Although," Julian trailed off and after trailing the fingers of his right hand through the tangled mass of his hair, remarked "You certainly do have remarkably odd way of showing it."

Garak snorted. "Interpret in whatever way you wish, Doctor. I trust that we shall not be having this conversation again?"

Julian nodded. "Agreed."

Garak nodded and pivoted around on the soles of his booted feet and strode over to where Julian sat, pausing before he too sat down. "Agreed."


End file.
